The Bride
by CidySmiley
Summary: Esme had never pictures herself as anyone's wife, let alone anyone's mother. But since here she was, in home she'd never been in, with a husband she'd never met, she was going to make the best of it.


_I do not own Peaky Blinders or anything related._

 _I've always been fascinated by what the transition was like for Esme, and for women like her. I feel like it would be a strange experience for the whole family getting to know someone new. So this is my take on it. Enjoy._

* * *

THE flat was nicer than anything she'd ever been in. Missing a few touches here and there, but for the most part, it was nice. There were large deep couches in dark green, shelves with glasses on them. It was kind of crowded with trunks, blankets and little trinkets that could only belong to children. She edged around the room as her husband came in (that was strange, she wasn't used to that yet.) he was with his brother. Arthur? Was his name?

She didn't really know what to do, seeing as how she didn't really plan on being anyone's wife anytime soon. It had quite been sprung on her. Her and her great aunt had gotten into something of a little argument. She'd always been too opinionated, too vocal, and that started to get her into trouble. She'd been engaged, the man was a right goat. He was a bloody animal, and she refused to be with him. But no matter how many times she showed her displeasure of being with him, he seemed to come back for more. The final straw came when she rolled over in her bed, in the middle of her night, and he was there, looming over her. With quick work she brought her elbow to his nose, feeling the bone snap under the force, he rolled away, wreaking havoc upon her room.

She'd been drug away to the council then, and they had since been deciding what to do with her. Three days before the wedding, as she was tending to the village children, the great mother came in, and informed her of her fate, she was to be married. To a Shelby.

 _To a fucking Shelby._

She'd never met any of them personally. But she'd heard enough tales to know that she wasn't going to like this very much.

"You'll have to be nice to him."

"I know."

"These Shelby's are not going to put up with that wandering mouth."

She'd looked up from the babies nappie then, looking the great mother in her eyes. She scooped the baby up, cradling him in her arms, and taking him to the warm water for a bath.

"He needs a wife to tend to his children." She cleaned the baby, his soft flesh giving a bit under her arms, as she cleaned up of dirt and dust. Of his sleep.

"Okay."

"Okay? Just like that?"

"Would it mattered if I argued?"

"No."

"That's what I thought."

.

.

So here she was. Standing, shuffling awkwardly in the living area of a man she'd hardly met. His brother and he were smoking, removing his jacket, and calling down the children.

"Take a seat, dear." The older one crowed loudly, it was like his voice was echoing, bouncing around the room loudly. She didn't know where to sit, so she went to the closest seat, sitting down in a green, deep chair, with a knitted blanket thrown over the back. She stared down at her hands. Her hands had been scrubbed clean before the wedding, the underbed of her nails still sore from the poking of sticks to dig the dirt from underneath them.

Her husband vanished down a hallway and she was left with his brother, tall and imposing with Navy eyes, he was peering down at her curiously.

"You're a quiet one." He said. She shrugged halfheartedly. Wanting to so badly tuck her hair out of it's intricate knots. She wanted to take off this dress, with too many layers, and slid into her packed nightie, and tuck into bed for the night. The night of dancing, and drinking had left her tired. She fiddled absently with the hair that pulled around her shoulders and pooled a bit in her lap. Her hair was unfashionably long.

She was drawn from her thoughts at the familiar sound of little feet puttering down the hall. This was probably the only time that she has not felt nervous this whole evening. She knew children. She could work with children. Her Husband came around the corner, proceeding him were two boy's in long john pajamas, one with a little cap on his head. They lined up in front of her. Her husband followed with a little girl, a wee girl with light blonde hair and a nightie on, he was cradling her to his chest, holding her tight. One hand supporting her little bottom, the other cupping her head. He was whispering to her.

Esme felt a pang in her chest.

"Esme, these are my children. John Jr. Michael. And little Katie. Kids, this is mama Esme, she's my new wife, and she'll be taking care of you from now on." The older of the boys, John Jr. Shuffled forward and threw his arms around her. She was startled for a moment, before she hugged him back, he smelled like soap and sleep, a familiar, child smell. The other boy was more shy, hiding a bit behind his dad, he was given an encouraging shove forward and fell into her lap absently. Before she could even take a moment to collect her thoughts, the small girl, maybe one or two years old, was dumped unceremoniously into her lap, where she gripped Esme's hair and shoved a thumb in her mouth, peering up at her with cold, blue eyes.

They were familiar eyes, she'd seen them on the middle brother, Thomas.

As her husband stalked over and lit cigarette by the fire with his brother, she looked over the children with an inspecting eye. The older one needed new pants, his were riding up around his ankles, he also needed a haircut, his hair was overgrown and shaggy around his shoulders, actually all the children's hair was too shaggy. They also needed a good wash. As clean as they smelled she could see offending little clumps of dirt in their hair. The middle boy, with dark brown eyes and long dark hair looked the most worse for wear. His clothes were both too short and too tight. He had dirt underneath his fingernails and something stuck between his teeth. She timidly reached out and parted his lips, brushing her thumb over the spot, it came away as flaky dough, they'd been eating sweets.

The young girl was gripping her hair with all her might, but Esme didn't mind, her hair been tugged on by children for longer than she could remember. She'd been a nurse in the village for so long, for the children.

She wondered absently if her husband would mind if she bathed the children before bed.

"Are you our new mother?" The question came from the oldest boy, she could tell that he was the voice of the group. His speech was slightly slurred, probably from exhaustion.

"Uhm.." She didn't really know how to answer. She wasn't their mother, as a matter of fact she didn't know what happened to his mother.

"Yes." The answer came from behind her, the middle Shelby man had come in, either he was stealthily silent or she was caught up in observing the children. "Yes John, she is. And you'll be very nice to her, and come to her if you need anything." He said.

The young girl nodded a little in her lap and she could tell they needed sleep. So finding her voice she stood, gripping the little girl, and fastening Michael's hand to her skirt, she asked, "May we bathe before bed?"

Her husband looked startled at her request.

"Of course. You don't need to ask to bathe, Esme." She nodded and walked out.

"John! Show your mother were the bathroom is."

John led the way, warily glancing back at her as if to check if she was still following. She was. They came to stop at a door. In the room was a deep claw foot tub, a counter with towels on it, and a window. She ran the water warm, filling the tub deep, before stripping the two boys. The girls stayed latched onto her. Even when she put her on her unsteady feet the girl gripped her wedding skirts and didn't let go.

Silently she bathed the boys. Running a small towel in the water and over their skin. She drained the water and helped them dry, patting their soft skin free of the warm water. They dressed back into their old clothes, and she combed out their hair. Their eyes were wide with wonder this whole time, as she ran the comb gently through their shaggy locks.

"Alright. Go lay in bed and wait for Katie and I to be done bathing, and perhaps I'll tell you a story." At this she could tell they grew excited. But the older boy tried to hide his excitement but his dancing eyes were hard to ignore. As the tub filled she pulled the Nightie off of Katie, And took her wedded dress off of herself. She draped it cautiously over the line in the bathroom and got in the tub with Katie. Holding the girl to her naked breast she sunk into the water with her.

The girls eyes were wide with wonder and Esme wondered if she'd never seen another woman naked before. She let Katie splash in the water as she bathed herself, removing her hair from it's confining knot she dunked her head under the water and then cleaned Katie.

"Pretty girl." She spoke to her, combing her hair in the water. The blonde hair was a little thin, but nothing age wouldn't fix.

She and Katie dressed. She put her sheath on from underneath her dress, her bare legs cold in the night and Katie was changed into a nightie that was already on the line.

She found the boys in a room down the hall, she could hear the sounds of laughing coming from the entrance room and knew that her husband (still strange) was still conversing with his brothers. She tucked herself into the bed with the boys, and held Katie on her chest.

"Tell the story please, mama."

Mama, that was new and weird. But fitting. She wasn't going to question it. So she wove them a story, of a clever bird evading a dog. And of a baker, who ran out of flour, and they laughed a little and drifted in and out of sleep. Little Michael was the last awake, and asked her, just as she was drifting into sleep.

"You wont leave us will you?"

She thought on that for a second. She thought of her mother, who had left their family in a shameful manner with Esme was ten. She could still remember her mother, her long red hair and beaming smile. She knew what it was like to be alone. To be uncared for. And while she didn't know much about these children, she knew she didn't want anyone to feel what she felt.

"No. I won't. I promise."

And it was a promise she intended to keep.

* * *

 _Alright, be nice to me. This is my first Peaky's fic. Look for an update in your box soon._

 _I don't know how historically accurate this is going to be, and I'm still learning the characters a bit so it might be a little OOC at first._

 _Drop me a note, what do you think?_


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